


The Colour of Vengeance is Red

by sunnyautumnmorning



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Anger, Assassin's Creed III, Gen, Violence, War, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 19:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12327117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyautumnmorning/pseuds/sunnyautumnmorning
Summary: The malevolence of those that had initiated the destruction of that which he had once held high in regard had pushed him over the edge. They had not realized what the outcome of their actions would be, mindlessly pursuing their own agenda with little or no thought to any consequence. Betrayal was a wound that cut deeply. Perhaps too deeply to forgive or move forward from.





	The Colour of Vengeance is Red

**Author's Note:**

> Hello reader,  
> It has been some time since I visited Ratonhnhaké:ton, perhaps it is the distant rumblings of the past approaching that has stirred my interest, that or I just missed him. And then again, some have read one of his tales and that set me upon this path. Either way he has made a return with this little bit of drama and my take on some history I was reading on the wiki. I hope you enjoy and I am unsure if this will continue or if it a one-shot. Dunno, can't say these days with all the uncertainty in the world.
> 
> Again, I do not own Assassin's Creed III or any of its content or characters, just the story that I have drafted out here for you.

Tiny droplets of blood fell from the tip of the French cutlass that he held in his hand, it collected into a puddle of crimson that gradually began to deepen in its shade. He looked down for a brief second and saw in that puddle the hopes of those he had cut down dissipate. He felt nothing at the loss of those hopes, for he had seen the hopes of those that had been closest to him destroyed in similar fashion.

Breathe now laboured, loud and rasping edged with hoarseness from roaring was gripping him. Training forgotten, he had charged in, blinded by a ferocity that had steadily developed into a beast he could no longer contain. He stood, mouth slightly open, looking without seeing the carnage that encompassed him.

The malevolence of those that had initiated the destruction of that which he had once held high in regard had pushed him over the edge. They had not realized what the outcome of their actions would be, mindlessly pursuing their own agenda with little or no thought to any consequence. Betrayal was a wound that cut deeply. Perhaps too deeply to forgive or move forward from.  
They had not fully comprehended that they had signed their own death warrant.

Ratonhnhaké:ton slowly returned to the present and surveyed the expanse of devastation around him. He glanced back towards where the soldiers stood fighting with the opposition that had, for a brief moment, outnumbered them. But this battle would not be won by sheer numbers but by force and that which burned in their heart.  
He turned back to face the carnage and ran forward, eyes elevated to the next hill, focused on the targets ahead of him. 

Dipping his shoulder down, he moved through the enemies in front of him, shoving them aside, they were inconsequential to him; he had only eyes for the one he believed responsible for what had occurred and no matter what he would take them down. He turned to his right, slicing through two enemies, then drove right and up into one. Muskets fired in his direction as he ran, but no bullet touched him. Bayonets raised to his passing tried to stab him, but he moved as swift as the water in the falls. His movements were fluid. He was a ghost on the battlefield, there and gone, a whisper of smoke.  
He saw his next intended target, his hat tipped on the edge of his head, his hands on his hips, as he spoke to those gathered around him. Ratonhnhaké:ton drove forward, the motion bringing scattering the surrounding startled bodies. He was greeted with resistance and assault, but he fought through it. One, two, three, they all fell to his anger, his retribution. All the while, Ratonhnhaké:ton kept his eye on the target. They came face to face and neither one breathed for fear of breaking the moment. Both fighters, standing tall in the blazing sun, amidst the sound of fighting and explosions. Both men raised their weapons and began the dance of death. Sidestepping thrusts and slashes, Ratonhnhaké:ton moved around, his teeth clenched tightly together, his heart thudding in his ears, each breath dragged in and expelled carefully. He saw an opening and he reacted, bringing the cutlass down, he severed the outstretched hand, watching as it and the blade fell. He rolled forth, like cannon fire, and buried his own blade in the chest of the man responsible for the carnage that he stood upon. With dying breath, he cursed Ratonhnhaké:ton, his people and the damnable country and ground that they were upon. The man slumped to the ground, holding his chest, blood bubbling from his wound and his mouth. His eyes accusing Ratonhnhaké: ton. Ratonhnhaké:ton shook his head and turned away, to his next target. 

There she stood mesmerized with her hands clasped behind her back, watching the events as they unfolded around her. A shout drew her attention to the approaching danger and she met it head on with a smile playing at the corner of her lips. She had known that he would come for her, after all, it was she that had brought them to this point that now was the possible conclusion of their relationship. She looked at Ratonhnhaké:ton; her face not betraying the emotions that raged under the surface. All that had been passed from her mind as she studied the man before her. There was nothing left to suggest that this was going to be easy, then again, she did not expect it to be. She deserved nothing and he, she would offer the same. Her hand strayed to her own sword and she unsheathed it, the sunlight that managed to filter through the clouds of smoke catching it and causing it to flash in his direction like some beacon guiding him along to his target.  
She stepped towards him, the point of her sword coming up to press against his chest; the chest where she might have laid her head. If only it had been different they might have stood shoulder to shoulder and not toe to toe in this fight. It pained her greatly to see the situation now. She spoke to him her eyes never leaving his.

“I knew it was only a matter of time before you would seek me out and come for what I know is what you think is justice. You think I betrayed you on so many levels, but the worst of those betrayals was when you thought it was I that gave the order for you to die. Under any other circumstances, I might have, but it was not me. There are others who you do not know that pull even my strings. I myself was betrayed by those that I trusted. So, you see, it does not matter now. We were friends once, maybe even…” She paused momentarily gauging his reaction and seeing none that either way informed her of what he was thinking she carried on, “and, for that I am sorry, truly. To tell you the truth, in any other circumstance, I would not have harmed you for any amount of reasoning or bribing.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton stood taller. “Your words mean nothing to me. They are empty, as your heart is. I thought you a woman with ideals akin to mine, but you are no different than those that seek to enslave what they think are the weak.”

She thought on this for a second, her mind replaying the past. Some of what she recalled was painful, some bittersweet. She stared at the warrior, his proud face, his strong body, the memory of another imprinted upon him, one so very close to her. Did he know who he provoked in her memories? He never would because she could not tell him.

She snorted. “You speak of enslavement, but what would you do? Those you aligned yourself with are no better than those ideals that I spoke to you on. I bared my soul to you and what did you yourself do but betray me. You took what I had offered you and tarnished it; turned it to ashes that I can taste in my mouth. You spoke words to me that you yourself believed in. There will come a time when the world you seek will wither away to become nothing but a mere shadow of its self. I told you that you and I had to work together, why is it that you cannot see that? I was honest were you not?”

Ratonhnhaké:ton clutched the cutlass and then sank it into the ground at her feet. “You speak too much on what you do not know. I have seen the future and it does not include you.”

His words echoed in her ears and she smiled briefly, replaced by something foreign and old.

His hand went to his tomahawk and he raised it against her, wavering between if he should or should not. Up this close, seeing her, smelling her scent, hearing her voice it affected him more than he knew he should let it. He saw the fear in her eyes and he heard her draw her breath in sharply.

She closed her eyes, her hand releasing the sword and she stood waiting for him to plunge the instrument of death, the instrument of his choosing into her chest and to cleave what would have been or could have been.

He stepped back while her eyes were still closed and moved past her. He stopped, looking over his shoulder and disappeared in the smoke from the battle.

She felt the rush of air pass her and then, nothing. She opened her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief or was it sadness? How might it have ended if he had plunged his tomahawk into her chest. Would she have found release and peace or torment? She had been granted a reprieve, but for how long she dared not question. She had given everything to him, and he, he had taken it willingly, without question and had returned such a great volume that it had almost suffocated her. Every fiber of her being cried out, as she sank to the muddy ground at her feet and her chest tightened, her heartbeat pounding in her ears as sobs escaped past her lips. He had been more to her than she should have ever allowed herself to possibly imagine, to allow. Now, what was, was shattered beyond all repair.  
Damn the Templars, damn the Assassins, damn them all and especially damn him.

Standing on wavering feet, she took up the sword and rammed it into the scabbard at her hip. She turned in the direction she thought he might have gone and followed. This was not over, not by a long shot. And, when she found him, what would she do? Would she manipulate him again into serving her needs? Could she face him and not kill him, or would it be her blood that was spilled? Either way, it might be a blessing. He had told her that he had seen the future and it had not included her, was this a possibility that she had not foreseen? She shook her head. This game had gone on for such a long time, too long.. But until that day, when they came face to face, she would not know of the outcome, and she prayed that that would one that they both might live with. Yet, she knew of a possible future that might be, how could she not for she was knowledgeable far beyond any that she had encountered. Her blood mingled in their veins, her form was one of the very vessels from which theirs had been poured forth from. She was glad he had not recalled who she truly was, but then her image had changed to keep secret her true self. 

Juno watched the horizon, the direction in which Ratonhnhaké:ton had run. He would outdistance her, but she would find him, she always did and thus would begin the game again.


End file.
